Seasonal
by Neomiko
Summary: Aoshi and Kaoru are drawn together as naturally as the seasons flow. A collection of drabbles/one-shots inspired by the elements.
1. Seasons

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin, Aoshi and Kaoru are not mine.

Aoshi is like winter to most people: cold and unyielding. The planes of his face are beautifully smooth, frozen as a newly settled snowdrift, eyes burning chips of glacial ice. He moves with grace and economy and a minimum of effort. He is all long limbs, hard edges and lean frame...and so very, very brittle. His chilly demeanor wards off even the most energetic of pursuers. He stands alone even when he is amidst the people he has known for years, a giant tree covered in frost. He is a part of them all, towering over them, influencing, yet still separate. He is waiting.

Kaoru is like summer to anyone who sees her: vibrant and intense. She may lack refinement, she may be rough, but she is caring, and the passion that burns within her is undeniable. She is the epitome of restless vigor unchecked, a wildflower in full bloom. She is the heat of summer, tantalizing, untamed and infectious. Too often she wilts under the pressure of her days, but always manages to blossom again, unbroken and strong. The weight of her worries is crushing, yet she stands tall, proud and upright and unrepentant. She is soft and delicate, welcoming and pliant. She will bend, but she will not break. This is who she is. She, too, is waiting.

When they meet for the first time, Kaoru's exuberance has faded. It is autumn in her heart, bared and abandoned but still holding out for the last traces of glory. Aoshi's wintry plains are open to her, if not exactly inviting her in. He is unbending and proud and driven beyond rationality and he can see beyond her pain, beyond what everyone else sees. Theirs is an inauspicious start. There is something broken and yearning in both of them; slowly dying. They're unsure and preoccupied and still too much strangers to recognize it at the time. She is striving to be the redemption for one man, he is striving to freeze one woman out. Danger surrounds them in many forms, as does fear. The greatest fear is the one you can never escape. So they let this tiny seed pass, ignore it, bury it. This secret they share (that they do not fully know) lies dormant, waiting for a chance, for better opportunities.

The next time they meet, it is spring. Their worlds have changed more dramatically than imaginable. _They_ have changed, they have grown, they have become more than what they were. Aoshi is thawing, rousing things he long thought dead inside. He is unfurling slowly, tentatively, unused to it all. Kaoru is rising, brighter than before, stronger and hardier than before, determined. She is a shining beacon of promise and forgiveness and she is drawing him to her inexplicably, like a moth to a flame. Aoshi cannot resist her pull, and he finds that he does not want to. He faces her, turns to her, as a plant does the sun, soaking up new spirit and second chances. They complement each other, his winter and her summer. Together they fell, and together they woke. Theirs is a regeneration, because they are changed, subtly, together; not different people, no, because that would mean nothing. As their fingers intertwine, theirs is a natural fit, as seamless as the flowing seasons.


	2. Rain

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin, Aoshi and Kaoru do not belong to me.

* * *

It is always rain that brings her to him.

She doesn't quite understand why.

Is it the melancholy of a mizzle, a very fine, drizzling rain that somehow manages to soak a person without really trying? Not a full-fledged downpour, nor light enough to wander without an umbrella. Does the monotonous pattering of light drops on the rooftop chase her into his arms? She can rest easy against his broad chest, his strong, steady heartbeat and deep, even breathing.

Is it the fear of a thunderstorm, water falling from the sky as if a river ran straight down, threatening to sweep the very walls of her home away? When wind-whipped torrents of rain crash against the windows, lightning zigzagging down from above, the air alive and crackling and booming does she seek solace in his strong embrace? His low voice and soothing words of comfort surround her, blanket her, shield her.

Is it the wonder of a world washed free of grime? A broken blue sky full of bright, fluffy clouds, hints of rainbows dancing above? Is it the fresh, clean air and the sparkly puddles of water, placid remnants of turbulent weather? Is it the promise of a new day and new beginnings that rushes her to wrap her arms around him, waiting for that special, soft smile always reserved exclusively for her?

When Kaoru slides into his outstretched arms, snuggling into his warmth, breathing his particular scent of comfort and Aoshi, she decides that it is all those things, and more. Kaoru knows all this is because she loves Aoshi. He will always be there for her, ready and waiting, arms wide open.

He has never had to say or do anything. The bond they have forged transcends that. He is her pillar, strong and tall and immutable. In turn, she is his foundation, nurturing, supporting and constant. Together, they can withstand anything.

* * *

Here's another little one-shot/drabble/I have no idea what to call it. I decided I'd tack it onto Seasonal, since they are too short, really, to be separate.

Constructive criticism is welcome. Flames are not welcome (obviously. Is that how you would speak to someone in person? Of course not.) I was thinking about making it a little drabble collection, maybe inspired by seasonal elements? Let me know what you think!


	3. Wind

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin, Aoshi and Kaoru do not belong to me.

* * *

Aoshi has never really enjoyed windy days. As a boy learning how to be a ninja, wind was an uncontrollable factor, a capricious entity. A sudden gust could influence the path of a thrown shuriken. A soft breeze could carry the sound of your footfalls to your enemies. A fierce gale could overwhelm your ears, drowning out the sounds around you. All kinds of dust and debris could be kicked up into your face when you were trying to concentrate. During the winter, it could chill you to your bones. During the summer, it could barely blow at all, making you stagnantly hot and uncomfortable. All in all, the wind was usually a force against his intentions.

How did the saying go? Follow the wind? Well, Aoshi had done that, when he was thrust into leadership at a very young age in the middle of blood and war and revolution. It had buffeted him and his men around, finally blowing them onto Kanryuu's doorstep. The days that followed were dark, but Aoshi couldn't hear anything other than whatever it was he was trying to prove. After the death of his men, windy days were nearly intolerable. All Aoshi could hear were the cries of his men, the booming gatling gun, and his own recriminations echoing in his ears. Every time the wind blew, they howled past his ears, bitter and cold and lost, driving him mad with a sense of helplessness.

Sometimes, Aoshi isn't sure if it's the wind, the ghosts of his past, or simply his own blood roaring through his ears.

It takes Kaoru a little time and far less effort than imagined to start rehabilitating Aoshi.

Whenever he approaches the dojo, he can hear her laughter, sweet and lilting, carried on the wind, beckoning him.  
It is refreshing.

Closer still and if it is just right, he can smell her uniquely familiar scent of jasmine floating on the breeze.  
It is revitalizing.

Closer still and he can see her, eyes alight and her long, dark ponytail dancing in a just-strong-enough current of air.  
It is invigorating.

When an errant lock of hair is blown into her eyes, it is Aoshi's fingers that tuck the strands behind her ear.  
He is rejuvenated.

Aoshi does not realize at first that Kaoru has overwhelmed his senses, filling them, and taking up his focus. Kaoru's laughter is warm and infectious, spreading to everyone within earshot. Aoshi is sure the sound reaches even Hannya, Beshimi, Shikijou and Hyottoko. These days, Aoshi hears less of the sorrowful cries of his men, and more of their whispers of approval, their entreaties to him to let them go. The wind is no longer biting and hard. It does not slice through his skin, cutting into his soul. Now he is reminded of the good things that have been blown his way; a soothing, refreshing caress on his spirit. He knows that Kaoru has given him this. At a most tumultuous time, she breezed into his life, blew away the darkness, and brought him a fresh start.

* * *

There you have it, another short piece. While reviewing random stories online today, I realized that Sakka-chan had written an AK story titled "Seasons" years ago. The title of this set of drabbles, "Seasonal" was coincidental (it should probably be called "Elemental". Oh well.) If you can find Sakka-chan's complete story, read it! It's terrific. 


	4. Snow

Hello, my readers! I'm terribly sorry for the long delay – rather a lot has happened and I haven't had time to write. I love this pairing so much, however, that I am making time (in the form of sneaky work breaks. SSHHH.) Anyway, here is the next installment of Seasonal, for your reading pleasure.

* * *

For the longest time, Kaoru has hated the cold. Snow always signified the passage of warmth, when life went into hiding and slept and the world was cold and empty. Soft curtains of white fall all around, a neverending stream of frozen water and memories of warmer days. The snow is beautiful...but cruel.

Whenever the snow comes, everything leaves her.

Before that motley crew of men found their way to her doorstep, days of heavy snowfall – thick, fluffy piles of white – meant days spent alone in the dojo. Few would dare to trudge through the freezing cold…who would venture forth just to see her? Any kendo class would be canceled for the harshest weather, and all her friends stayed in town. After her father died, there was only the backstabbing Hiruma to keep her company for a while, which was not very comforting, in all honesty.

Aoshi has been called many things in his life, but the most frequent adjective used to describe him is "cold." Kaoru has felt that gaze freeze her before. It has stopped her in her tracks, stilling words of warmth in her throat, before they can spill from her mouth. Unexpectedly, it burns. Every time he looks at her, she feels his icy blue eyes searing her from the inside out. Her skin flushes uncontrollably in response and she shivers from the intensity, as if suffering mild hypothermia. Kaoru cannot hide anything from his penetrating stare.

Maybe the coldness of winter is why Kaoru is such a warm person. All winter long she has no one to nurture, to share her warmth with – to give and be given in return. When spring comes, Kaoru is ready for it like no other. The fallen snow will live only in her memory. Only she knows how much she hates the isolating cold, for reasons others will never discover. It drives her to make sure that no one else will ever feel the same. Every year, no matter how much snow falls, Kaoru knows it all will eventually melt away…she has firsthand experience.

The heat generated between them is enough to melt the errant snowflakes from their flesh and drive the chill from their bones. Kaoru glows as only Aoshi can make her; she in turn stokes the fire within him, determined to melt that icy shell. Aoshi's frosty shield of indifference cannot withstand Kaoru's onslaught.

Once again, snow blankets the ground, dusting the trees, and covering the dojo in a layer of pristine white. All is quiet and still and although the cold still surrounds her home, inside is warm and toasty and Kaoru is no longer alone.


	5. Heat

Hello, my readers! I can't seem to find the time to update! Work has gotten absurdly busy, and to be honest, I had a bit of a time with this one. I actually ended up turning it into two, so look for the next installment much more quickly.

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin, Aoshi and Kaoru do not belong to me.

* * *

The air between them positively shimmers, wavering like the red, red belly of the setting sun. He is more potent than the midday Tokyo sun in August. She feels scorched from the inside out and she is so aware of him that she can barely breathe.

She watches his pale skin, not as light as her own, darkening in the daylight. The scars stand out a little more prominently, and she is (not so secretly) thankful he has decided to remove his shirt as he practices outside. When he stops and turns to face her, she cannot explain the heat in his gaze, how icy blue eyes burn right through her. All she knows is that when he stares at her, like he is now, her pulse races, her face grows hot and she is distinctly uncomfortable in even her lightest yukata.

He knows the effect he has on her. He feels it too, the way his blood pumps fiercely through his veins when she smiles at him, the way his mouth goes dry suddenly when he catches her watching him. He feels her eyes on his body, can practically taste her need as he walks towards her. The responding desire burns so hot just beneath his skin he wonders how she can stand so, so close to him and not feel it.

Or maybe she wants to feel it.

The space between them sizzles with barely repressed emotion.

When he touches her, it is a supernova of love, lust and something indefinable. His fingers, with no more than a fleeting stroke, brand her flesh. The heat of his hand can warm her skin all day long. How is it possible that her skin is still so smooth and unmarred when everywhere he touches feels absolutely burned?

She is dizzy, breathless, and yearning. The passion is overwhelming. It is so intense she vaguely wonders why the paint hasn't blistered off the dojo walls yet. Unleashed desire so strong she thinks of the hottest summer afternoons, how the sun blazes relentlessly, how it sets her aflame.


	6. Humidity

Hello, my readers! Look! Two updates in one week! It is a miracle (of small proportions, I know, but I take what I can get.) I am made of win!

I've upped the rating to T, not because this is all that racy, but do I think K-level kids ought to be reading this? The answer is: probably not.

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin, Aoshi and Kaoru do not belong to me.

* * *

The first thing Kaoru noticed was the heavy air, thick with unshed moisture. _Another hot one_, she sighs to herself. _They really should make clothes that are lighter for women to wear…something that allows us to breathe._ Briefly, Misao's ninja outfit crosses her mind, but the thought of showing so much leg is daunting. _But I bet she's loads more comfortable than I am right now._

Aoshi takes a deep breath, the saturated air sitting in his lungs. _Tokyo is stifling_, he thinks. _Perhaps rain will fall soon, and grant us a break from this unending heat._ Today is a market day, and he knows the trip will be that much more problematic for Kaoru, with the oppressive temperature. With the air as drenched as it is, the day feels twice as hot and even shade offers little comfort.

The walk to town is quiet as always. Kaoru is fairly miserable in the heat, and even Aoshi, ever cool and collected, cannot maintain his icy demeanor. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches him walk, all lithe grace and controlled power. His shirt is beginning to stick to his chest, and he has widened the gap at his collar in the hopes of catching any slight breeze in the sweltering heat. She imagines sweat-soaked clothes, slowly taking them off, and exposing glistening skin. She wonders if it would feel as hot and slick beneath her hands. Does his perspiration follow the lines of scars and muscles on his bare chest? How she would love to trace the paths with her fingertips, down, down, down... Her face flushes, and she has somehow made herself even hotter than before. _It must be the heat_, she thinks, subtly fanning herself with her hand.

Feeble rationale for her racy daydreams in which a certain ninja, always cool and collected, plays the leading man.

In the marketplace, when he sees another man look at her (the way he himself _must_ be looking at her), he is boiling jealousy and possessiveness and he can barely contain himself. She is tempting, he knows, with her glowing skin and innocently flushed face. How he would love to trace the tendrils of hair clinging to the nape of her neck, disappearing beneath her collar. Slowly peeling the clothes from her form, and discovering if every inch of pale, dewy flesh is as hot as he imagines. His nerves are fraying with unfulfilled desire, and he is perilously close to losing control. He aches so badly to touch her, but he can't, not in front of all these people, and to have men _staring_...

His temper has never gotten the best of him before, and he can only chalk it up to how suffocatingly hot the day is.


	7. Thunder

Hello, my readers! So sorry for the delay. Work has been ridiculously busy, so I haven't had the time to write. I've been struck by inspiration now and again, most usually while I'm driving and completely unable to do anything about it. _Of course._

To be honest, I'm not completely certain that I'm all that happy with this entry, but here it is, and there you have it.

Also, I'm winding this series down. I have one or two more elements I'd like to tackle, but I'm running out of ideas. If you'd like, you can PM me suggestions if you'd like to see this continue. I can't guarantee I'll write something, but I'll certainly try.

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin, Aoshi and Kaoru do not belong to me.

* * *

Kaoru always knows when Aoshi is near. Whenever he approaches, Kaoru feels it, like an oncoming storm. The pressure acumulating between them.

Within her.

He is barely contained power, hard and strong. He is cool, possessing a deep, burning passion, and it is only a matter of time before it bursts forth. _That's what thunder is_, Kaoru thinks, _shifts in temperature colliding, the atmosphere releasing the energy the only way it can: explosively._

Sometimes it builds slowly, gathering strength, like waves rushing the shore, rolling endlessly. Sometimes it is violently sudden and heavy, shaking the rafters of the dojo with undisguised fury. While Kaoru does not care for storms, she can appreciate the raw power of them. She is amazed how something intangible (it is, after all, basically air pressure and contrasting temperatures) can be so awesome. Still, thunder makes her nervous.

What it brings.

What it is.

Aoshi is both the calm before the storm and the raging eye. Perfectly still, perfectly composed, oblivious to but contributing to the chaos he brings. Or, perhaps, not so oblivious after all; perhaps opportunistic. He secretly takes delight in watching Kaoru's spine stiffen, her breathing quicken, as he steps close to her. He has noticed that he always affects her thus, even when he comes up stealthily behind her, no clue to alert her to his presence. She is tuned to him somehow. He knows she can feel, to some extent, what he feels.

And what Aoshi feels whenever he sees Kaoru is not a placid thing. On the surface, he is calm, but inside…inside is a maelstrom of reactions. Raging emotions, long dormant, needing only a little catalyst to awaken them, send them racing through his bloodstream so fast and hard that his whole body is practically reverberating and it is a wonder he does not explode. His entire being is thrumming, the desire and anticipation and anxiety rumbling around inside him, waiting and swelling until the next time he can be with Kaoru.

It is surprising how no one can see the emotions roiling within him, dark and heavy, just beneath his skin, like a dragon coiled and ready. Fewer still have ever seen him express any sort of passion visibly. Kaoru, was, is and will always be an exception. Aoshi is like a thunderstorm, she realizes; by the time you see him coming, he is already upon you.

But Kaoru can feel him coming long before she ever sees him with her own eyes, and she is always ready and waiting for (and a little startled by) that powerful, secret thrill that only he seems to be able to bring her.


	8. and Lightning

Hello, my readers! So, this little bit will be the last installment for this series. As such, it's quite a bit longer than the previous entries, and the style is a bit different. They speak to each other! I just realized that in all my previous chapters, they don't. Not quite sure how I feel about this last one because the end didn't come to me easily (a sign, perhaps?) but I hope you all like it. It's hard to believe that I've been writing these shorts for nearly a year now. It doesn't seem like that much time has passed, but when you work full-time, volunteer every weekend and crochet projects for Angels For Hope, I suppose the days can just get away from you.

Or maybe I'm a total slacker.

Well.

I hope you've enjoyed these as much as I've enjoyed writing them. I also have a larger project I'm sort of trying to work on…hopefully I'll start being able to post chapters for it soon – the expansion of The Right Man. AxK, of course! (PS, if anyone has the time and inclination to want to help me with some research for that, I'd be most grateful.)

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin, Aoshi and Kaoru do not belong to me.

* * *

* * *

There is an old saying: lightning never strikes twice.

_Sure_, thought Kaoru,_ tell that to the man who was struck seven times by lightning. At least he managed to survive them all until he killed himself over unrequited love.* _

_Dear god, please don't let that be me._

Once, Kaoru would have said she was in love with Kenshin, without preamble or hesitation. It had been like a bolt from the blue, the sudden realization that she loved this wandering, wounded man. Still, her love burned brightly and determinedly. She had been doggedly devoted to a man who, at the time, would not, _could not,_ love her the way she so desperately wanted him to. His dismissal of her love broke her, seared her, and for a time she thought it would be impossible to recover. Even so, she took the shards of her shattered heart and pieced them back together slowly, as best she could, whole again but indelibly scarred.

A mark like that never completely fades away.

So she threw herself into other things, keeping busy at the dojo, recruiting more students, fending off Tae's matchmaking schemes. Days passed, the months reeling away like an unraveling spool of thread. Kaoru knew she was courting spinster-status, but she simply couldn't bring herself to embark on the potentially embarrassing journey of finding a husband. If a man could not love her as she was, then he must simply be the wrong man for the job. Her match would be for love, or there would be no match at all.

The moment she realized that she loved Aoshi Shinomori had been no less electrifying than the first time she had tasted love.

The stoic ninja had been in town assisting the Tokyo police force for an unknown duration. Kaoru, ever generous-hearted, had allowed Aoshi to use Yahiko's old room. Thus, Aoshi had been spending quite a bit of time at the dojo when not at the police station. Not content with simply being a boarder, when he could, Aoshi did odd jobs around the dojo and ran errands for Kaoru, without even being asked to. As a result, she had been feeling odd for days; inexplicable pressure in her lungs, the staccato tempo of her heartbeat, the nearly-nauseating fluttering in the pit of her stomach. Every time he was within sight, her hands would get clammy and her breathing would hitch. She looked forward to seeing him for breakfast, and wondered when he would be back from the police station in the evenings. In seemingly no time at all, a routine had been established at the dojo; a routine including the presence of Aoshi Shinomori.

One morning, awareness shocked her system so thoroughly she actually stumbled while walking through her yard to the gate. _Dear god in heaven, I have fallen in love with Aoshi Shinomori._

Aoshi saw her misstep and was at her side in a flash. Grasping one elbow and her lower back in his large hands, he leaned over her, asking, "Kamiya, are you all right?"

Kaoru's heart thumped in her throat at the feel of his hands on her. Speechless for a moment, she swallowed hard and managed to jerk her head in what she prayed looked like a nod.

"Yes! Yes, I'm fine."

Did she really sound as breathless as she thought she did? She hoped not. His gaze was intense on her face, but he straightened up and nodded, his fingers lingering for a moment just shy of what could be considered proper before releasing her. However, he stayed close to her, warm and reassuring and frighteningly overwhelming and most definitely within her personal space and too close for comfort.

"You do know that I will always be here for you, should you need me." His clear blue eyes were so penetrating that Kaoru had no doubt about his underlying meaning. Hope flared to life in her chest and she wasn't sure if Aoshi could hear her frantic heartbeat.

She knew, absolutely knew, that this time, she would not get burned.

* * *

*OK, so the lightning bit is anachronistic: Roy Sullivan was a U.S. park ranger in Virginia who was struck by lightning 7 different times and survived all of them. I remember reading about him when I was about six years old since I really liked reading everything under the sun at that age (to be honest, I still kind of do.) Sadly, at the age of 71 he committed suicide, reportedly inconsolable because of a one-sided love. I've always remembered that story, and it's been at least twenty years now since I first heard it and really, it doesn't take away from my short little story at all, I don't think. Look Roy up on Wikipedia. The statistics of being struck by lightning are _staggering_. But yes, since I don't actually mention the location or when the man was struck by lightning, I think it's just fine.


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